A Declaration
35 Winter, 515
Late Afternoon
The uneasiness of his being was apparent in his eyes, the irises quivering with uncertainty and anxiety. A laugh came from her before a cough forced her to reach for the cloths she so depended on at the time. It didn’t curb his nervous jitters however, not until she spoke earnestly in the voice he had grown to love, a voice so laced with calm tones and kind notes. Even with the stifling of sickness, the voice was still there, hidden amidst the fog of illness. As her voice worked its magic, calming the nervous eagle, he noticed the tears welling in her eyes, brimming at her lids, threatening to spill over. She laughed, keeping them at bay, light, airy, jesting.
The words she said, interrupted by brief laughter, coughs, emotion, were a direct mirroring of Noah’s own thoughts and revelations. He, too, never thought they’d become as close as they did, never thought they’d be two to take care of one another, to consider one another family even though they didn’t share the same blood. Elann showed him what it truly meant to consider another as family. It wasn’t the kinship of relation, but the behaviors the related often shared. It was true, he considered her like a sister at first before she took on the title of friend, then that friend resembled his mother. Each passing consideration, evolution of relationship made him beg for more meaning. Now, it was unbearable.
He shifted on the edge of her bed, scooting closer. She had taken the teacup from his hands, leaving him without something to meddle with while they conversed. It was a nervous tick of his, to fidget with things, to play with his fingers and hands. She didn’t give him the chance to commit to his past ways, taking his hand into hers. Even though the movement was warm, her hands were warmer, hot even, to the touch. Fever still gripped her in its scalding grasp, reminding him of his impeccable timing. The clutch of her hand was welcoming, nonetheless, and he returned the action with a comforting grip of his own.
Her following words continued in a gallantry, winding on about her culture, her father and mother, previous family before him, and fact that she had been disowned, no longer considered a Benshira in the eyes of her people, herself too. He thought it odd that she would’ve been married off without knowing who exactly she was marrying. Sure, there was a possibility that she’d know the man beforehand, but there was a chance that she did not. It was up to her father to decide whom she would marry, nothing of her own discretion. In that he felt that was somewhat lucky to have been disowned, to know a world outside of the binding limitations of Benshiran lifestyle. Yet she seemed quite proud of her roots, proud of where she hailed. It was not his place to judge as someone who used to want to cast away their Kelvic roots in preference of a more humane lifestyle. It wasn’t the case anymore. However, it was still a bitter motivation to remember.
It was at the caress of his hand that he realized how much longing, yearning, was held in his stare of her. He bid his eyes to cast downward, to fall upon their hands, as she hung her head. The movement appeared somber in execution, her words turning to say that she would not live a relationship outside of marriage, despite not technically being Benshiran anymore. Then she encouraged him to say what he wanted to say, to not withhold his feelings because of fear.
“I confess, I did not believe that we would become as close as we have. I didn’t know you’d mean so much to me.” He paused, gathering himself mentally in a breath’s time. Her words had did much to calm him, her encouragement bolstering what confidence resided inside his lithe frame. “I do desire you, I know that now. I hate that it took you being disowned, being sad, being sick, for me to realize as much, but I am glad I know now. Just as you are pure in Yahal’s eyes, you are pure in mine as well. And, I’m confident to say, that you always will be pure in my eyes.” He looked up from their grasping hands, taking in the strands of her hair that hung from her head. “If what I feel in my heart is love for you, then I will accept that and prove myself worthy of your love in return. Yahal knows my faithfulness to you. He knows the pureness you hold, and Zulrav knows just how fierce a storm we can withstand together and how fierce my love for you can, and will, become.”
He took a breath, the crackling of the fire softly resounding in from the front room. With another scoot he was closer to her, moving his other hand to join their tangle of palms. “I may not be the man that your father would have chosen you to marry, I’m fairly sure I’m much too thin, too gentle, pale too,” he said, laughing at the jabs to himself. His smile remained, continuing, “But I want to become the man that you would choose to marry someday.” He quieted, thoughts swirling for more words, eyes yearning for the sight of her own.
“I realize now that,” he whispered, breaking his silence, “you are my everything. I have nothing here in Syliras, nothing stopping me from leaving. You became my anchor when I saw you in the lobby, when I showed you to your room. I had a feeling that I must stay, to make sure you settled in okay, that you found a work. I believe then that if you had asked me to pay for your stay, I would’ve done so without hesitation. I’d do the same now, even more.” He graced his thumb across her palm, enjoying the warmth her hands provided to his. “So, I’m asking, may I have the chance to one day hold your hand when we walk in the city together, to be there when you’re sad, wiping the tears from your eyes, to support you in all your endeavors? May I hold you at night when you can’t sleep, when you have night terrors? May I be the one who you tell your hopes to, can I share your aspirations?”
The words she said, interrupted by brief laughter, coughs, emotion, were a direct mirroring of Noah’s own thoughts and revelations. He, too, never thought they’d become as close as they did, never thought they’d be two to take care of one another, to consider one another family even though they didn’t share the same blood. Elann showed him what it truly meant to consider another as family. It wasn’t the kinship of relation, but the behaviors the related often shared. It was true, he considered her like a sister at first before she took on the title of friend, then that friend resembled his mother. Each passing consideration, evolution of relationship made him beg for more meaning. Now, it was unbearable.
He shifted on the edge of her bed, scooting closer. She had taken the teacup from his hands, leaving him without something to meddle with while they conversed. It was a nervous tick of his, to fidget with things, to play with his fingers and hands. She didn’t give him the chance to commit to his past ways, taking his hand into hers. Even though the movement was warm, her hands were warmer, hot even, to the touch. Fever still gripped her in its scalding grasp, reminding him of his impeccable timing. The clutch of her hand was welcoming, nonetheless, and he returned the action with a comforting grip of his own.
Her following words continued in a gallantry, winding on about her culture, her father and mother, previous family before him, and fact that she had been disowned, no longer considered a Benshira in the eyes of her people, herself too. He thought it odd that she would’ve been married off without knowing who exactly she was marrying. Sure, there was a possibility that she’d know the man beforehand, but there was a chance that she did not. It was up to her father to decide whom she would marry, nothing of her own discretion. In that he felt that was somewhat lucky to have been disowned, to know a world outside of the binding limitations of Benshiran lifestyle. Yet she seemed quite proud of her roots, proud of where she hailed. It was not his place to judge as someone who used to want to cast away their Kelvic roots in preference of a more humane lifestyle. It wasn’t the case anymore. However, it was still a bitter motivation to remember.
It was at the caress of his hand that he realized how much longing, yearning, was held in his stare of her. He bid his eyes to cast downward, to fall upon their hands, as she hung her head. The movement appeared somber in execution, her words turning to say that she would not live a relationship outside of marriage, despite not technically being Benshiran anymore. Then she encouraged him to say what he wanted to say, to not withhold his feelings because of fear.
“I confess, I did not believe that we would become as close as we have. I didn’t know you’d mean so much to me.” He paused, gathering himself mentally in a breath’s time. Her words had did much to calm him, her encouragement bolstering what confidence resided inside his lithe frame. “I do desire you, I know that now. I hate that it took you being disowned, being sad, being sick, for me to realize as much, but I am glad I know now. Just as you are pure in Yahal’s eyes, you are pure in mine as well. And, I’m confident to say, that you always will be pure in my eyes.” He looked up from their grasping hands, taking in the strands of her hair that hung from her head. “If what I feel in my heart is love for you, then I will accept that and prove myself worthy of your love in return. Yahal knows my faithfulness to you. He knows the pureness you hold, and Zulrav knows just how fierce a storm we can withstand together and how fierce my love for you can, and will, become.”
He took a breath, the crackling of the fire softly resounding in from the front room. With another scoot he was closer to her, moving his other hand to join their tangle of palms. “I may not be the man that your father would have chosen you to marry, I’m fairly sure I’m much too thin, too gentle, pale too,” he said, laughing at the jabs to himself. His smile remained, continuing, “But I want to become the man that you would choose to marry someday.” He quieted, thoughts swirling for more words, eyes yearning for the sight of her own.
“I realize now that,” he whispered, breaking his silence, “you are my everything. I have nothing here in Syliras, nothing stopping me from leaving. You became my anchor when I saw you in the lobby, when I showed you to your room. I had a feeling that I must stay, to make sure you settled in okay, that you found a work. I believe then that if you had asked me to pay for your stay, I would’ve done so without hesitation. I’d do the same now, even more.” He graced his thumb across her palm, enjoying the warmth her hands provided to his. “So, I’m asking, may I have the chance to one day hold your hand when we walk in the city together, to be there when you’re sad, wiping the tears from your eyes, to support you in all your endeavors? May I hold you at night when you can’t sleep, when you have night terrors? May I be the one who you tell your hopes to, can I share your aspirations?”
